


John Uskglass and the Mage of Newcastle

by kashinoha



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Aureate shenanigans, Humor, Rabbits, magical lore, the raven king gets friendzoned, william of lanchester needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4741118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/pseuds/kashinoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or that time the Raven King tried to court the Lady Catherine and failed miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Uskglass and the Mage of Newcastle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OfShoesAndShips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfShoesAndShips/gifts).



 

  **John Uskglass and the Mage of Newcastle  
**

 

 _This is the lost chapter of Lord Portishead’s_ A Child’s History of the Raven King. _It never made publication—in part, many suspect, because of its outlandish depiction of womenfolk that would have likely fallen prey to Gilbert Norrell’s censorship. Fortunately for us, most northern Englishmen and women know this tale, so not all is lost. For those unfamiliar with it, however, I have retold the story below as it has been passed down over the centuries in the hopes that John Uskglass's legacy may live on._

 

 

It was some time after taking in Catherine of Winchester as his disciple in the magical arts that the Raven King began to develop fond feelings for her. It proved to be more than a filial fondness, at least that he was sure of, but it was very distracting all the same. He was continually vexed by these feelings to the point where he confided in his seneschal, William of Lanchester, on the matter.

“I would advise against pursuing any sort of courtship with the Lady Catherine, my Liege,” said William of Lanchester, who was well acquainted with his King’s romantic plights and their disastrous outcomes (he was quite unable to discuss Nimue, the Lady of the Lake without a strong tonic in hand. And god save anyone who mentioned the Morrigan).

“Why should any woman deny me?” thought the Raven King. “I am blessed with good looks, power, and the riches of the land.”

William of Lanchester replied that the whims of the fairer sex were not as simple as those of men, but he could see that the King would not be deterred.

“I shall grace her with poetry,” the King decided. “Women like poetry.” William of Lanchester pointed out that the King could barely read in English (a product of his own stubbornness more than an academic failing), let alone write it.

“But I shall recite it, not write it,” the King declared. “See my dear William, I am a poet already.”

So the Raven King set himself to making a poem for the Lady Catherine. The only problem was, he could not decide what language to put it in. English was not enticing enough, Latin too intense. He did not know Italian and fairy _Sidhe_ would just confuse her.

“I know,” the Raven King thought, “I shall use Hellish. It is by far the most romantic tongue I have come across.”

So the Raven King composed a verse for the Lady, imploring all the quixotic clichés of comparing her likeness to a fresh spring’s morning and her eyes like pools of starlight and such. When the poem was finished he summoned the Lady Catherine and recited his composition for her. Unfortunately for him the Lady Catherine did not understand the Tongue of the Bitter Lands and instead thought the King to be coming down with a cold.

“My Liege, you sound awful,” she exclaimed. “How you croak so! Come, let us have you to bed and I will fetch for some healing herbs.” The Raven King declared that he was perfectly fine, but ill luck and a badly-timed patch of sunlight at that moment caused him to sneeze.

“Such falsehoods shan’t work on me when I can see clearly that you are not well,” said the Lady Catherine, frowning, and led him by the arm to his chambers despite the King’s protests.

 

 

Perhaps it was the rarity of a female scholar and magician that held its own charm, but in the coming months the Raven King found himself increasingly besotted with Lady Catherine. Even the rain seemed to adore her. Magic came as easy to her as it did to a fairy. The Raven King had even inquired if she might be of distant fae blood, but to this his ladyship had laughed and replied that no, she was as human as the King; perhaps even more so. Women, she explained, simply possessed more natural magic than men.

This of course did nothing to quell the King’s fancy, and it was not long before he decided to put on a dance in Lady Catherine’s name. Women enjoyed dancing, he gathered, and he would see to it she had the perfect ball.

So the Raven King arranged for the most beautiful dance in the land. He called upon the three old seamstresses who lived in a tree to weave tapestry of amber and fireflies. He gathered fountains of pumpkin bourbon and Tiger’s Eye wassail, freshly brewed by the Picts, and saw that his own boots were shined with a bottle of magic wax lent to him from Emrys (the magician owed him a favor after a matter involving the Duke of Normandy, a chicken, and a chambermaid).

But along the way arose the issue of musicians. Namely, there weren’t any. Most of them had abandoned Carlisle to sing that awful modern tosh over at Notre Dame, and Newcastle’s lute player had accidentally wandered into the broken mirror during the celebrations last Yule.

“I will have to enchant the instruments to play themselves,” said the Raven King. Unfortunately for him no one had been around to tune the castle’s instruments for a great many years, and as we all know, badly-tuned instruments cannot play in time and prove to be most loud and unruly. The result was an ambience soiled by poor rhythm and tone-deaf instruments. The instruments were so loud, in fact, that they overwhelmed any conversation that might have transpired, and the King retired that evening in a mood as black as his mantle.

 

 

“I have it,” the Raven King announced to William of Lanchester. “I will give her an animal. Women fancy animals, do they not?”

“I suppose so,” said William of Lanchester. “We have plenty of horses to spare.”

“Ah, but the Lady would not care for a horse, surely,” said the King, waving a hand. “A horse would altogether be too mundane. No, I think I shall bestow a rabbit upon her ladyship.”

“A rabbit, my Liege?” Rabbits were not the most noble of creatures, if truth be told. They made far better stews and winter scarves than they did pets, and William of Lanchester told the King as such.

The Raven King replied that rabbits were fluffy and small and that the fairer sex were known to faun over small and fluffy things. A rabbit would therefore be the perfect gift. And not only that, but it must be a magic rabbit.

William of Lanchester inquired as to where the King would procure such a magic rabbit.

“The Oak and Holly Kings owe me a favor,” answered the Raven King. William of Lanchester attempted once more to remark upon the benefits of horses, though his endeavors proved rather feeble as he saw plainly that the King had made up his mind.

So the Raven King sought out the Oak and Holly Kings in the forests of Whinfell. Although they were fighting each other again, both agreed to recess briefly while they conjured a rabbit for the King to present to Lady Catherine.

And all would have been well had the Raven King remembered one slight detail. Animals from the Oak and Holly Kings were of the earth, wild and untamed. The rabbit wreaked havoc in the King’s castle, knocking over vases, burrowing into the kitchens, and leaving pellets everywhere. It was uncannily fast and quiet, and in the end it took three days and nights for the inhabitants of Newcastle to finally catch the creature.

For his efforts William of Lanchester found himself with a headache and his best blouse chewed with holes, but he contended himself with the fact that the stew, at least, had been lovely.

 

 

The Raven King, convinced that his ill luck at wooing the Lady Catherine was due to the mediocrity of his efforts, finally opted for a grander scheme.

“I shall give her my heart,” he decided. “Then there can be no denying my feelings and she will have to accept.”

Extracting the heart was a nasty business indeed, and quite painful even though it was only in the magical sense. The Raven King placed his heart in an iron box and then set the box on his desk.

Now at this time there was no fellow by the name of Murphy to create what in later centuries would become known as Murphy’s Law, but the Raven King would not have been surprised to find that such a law was associated with an Irish name. Those in England at the time had a different saying for such a predicament: “by John’s droppings.” The Raven King hadn’t the faintest idea of where it could have come from, but he admitted the phrase had a certain ring to it.

I mention this all because the very next day one of the chambermaids happened to bump into the desk with the King’s heart on it. The box containing the King’s heart tumbled into the King’s laundry hamper and was taken away for cleaning, unbeknownst to anyone.

“I do not understand it; how can you _lose_ a heart?” William of Lanchester asked, exasperated, when the King came to him in palpable distress.

The fact that the King’s heart was in the laundry went unnoticed until it shewed up in one of the maid’s clean brassieres the following day. The maid, quite perplexed, brought it to one of the vassals, wrapped in a chemise, who then brought it to William of Lanchester. William of Lanchester opened the box, shook his head, and presented it to Lady Catherine—all of which was very embarrassing for the King indeed.

That evening Catherine of Winchester approached the Raven King’s court with the box. She knelt before him and placed it in his hand.

“You do know what became of the last man who pursued me,” said Catherine of Winchester, not unkindly.

“Quite,” said the Raven King, uncomfortable.

“If I am to take a man, it will be of my own choosing and on my own terms. Your affections are most appreciated, my Liege, but they are not returned,” Lady Catherine told him. “I hope this does not sadden you.”

“But surely there is no other who is more worthy of your love than I!” cried the Raven King.

At this the Lady Catherine laughed. “Did I ever speak of doubting that, my Liege? Nay, I only protest that I have come to know you very well in these past years,” she said, smiling. “And although brilliant you are whimsical. Your true lovers ought to be the forces which you so greatly immerse yourself in, who can match you in such caprices! Court the moon, the glow in a bird’s eye, the wind over the mountains. Judging from the number of Iceland poppies this year I daresay Lady Winter has more than forgiven you.”

“Do you really believe so?” asked the Raven King.

Catherine of Winchester only smiled, as if to say that she knew of a great many things that the King did not. And it was likely so.

“Please see to it that you guard your heart with more care,” she advised him. “For how can you bid others welcome to it if you lose it in such a fashion?”

The Raven King shook his head. He possessed much wisdom on the topic of magic, but though he thought himself equally versed in women he was beginning to believe he was quite mistaken in these regards.

“I suppose you are right, Lady Catherine,” he said, and smiled. “Thank you.” As Lady Catherine was leaving, the Raven King suddenly remembered something she had said.

“Do you suppose I should get Lady Winter a gift for her coming, then? A rabbit, perchance?” he asked.

Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow and informed the King that a horse would suffice far better than a rabbit, which made the Raven King wonder if he should have altogether paid more attention to his trusted seneschal William of Lanchester from the very beginning.

 

_End._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Glendasugarbean! Thank you for inspiring me with your story of John Uskglass losing a drinking game to a sheep, and I hope you enjoy this gift!


End file.
